One Reason
by Roguester
Summary: What happened that afternoon was more than just a grandma kiss... (Trily, one-shot)


Title: One Reason  
Author: Roguester  
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters. They all belong to the scary man in the pink tie, as Caalan had pointed out.  
Spoilers: This "filler" story takes place between the end of "More Than A Single" and the beginning of "The Awful Truth."

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"Don't give me indecision  
Cause it's you I'm all about..."  
_Don't Tell Me What To Do_

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Dirty blonde hair in a blue shirt. You swooped down from above and solidified my highest ambitions. You are my musical savior. My angel in disguise. Playing innocent games while concealing the awful truth.

Record sales are up, as you know. I don't know how you managed to pull it off, but you did. You started something big and I followed through. We caused a dent in the music industry. We found a stepping stone for greatness. We sparked a life-altering moment –

We sparked.

And I can tell that you noticed it too because there's a subtle twinkling behind your eyes. You look so proud yet you seem so scared. Believe me, I feel it too. When we told Ray that we weren't dating, we were telling the truth. But inside we wished that we weren't. I welcomed the forbidden possibility, but you refused to acknowledge it. You have Audrey. You're afraid to lose her and I understand. So please... as consolation... just do me this one favor.

Give me one reason to pull away. Tell me why I shouldn't kiss you right now.

Tell me why I should leave.

Tell me…

What's your excuse anyway? You don't seem to have any. Just a little bit of shock, a little bit of guilt, and a desperate need to point fingers. But don't you blame it on my music. Don't you blame it on my career, or your creativity, or RFR. Don't blame it on your confusion either because I'm not listening to any of your I-don't-know-what-this-means speech. This isn't a sin. This isn't a mistake. Or maybe it is, but it just doesn't feel that way.

So give me one reason to pull away. Just one. Otherwise I'll just…

Stand here. Look deep in your eyes. Whisper thank you, thank you for producing my first single. I appreciate it, really. But I'm not blaming it on the song either. I just want to show you some gratitude. I just want to show you some respect. That's all I want to do, I promise… I hope you can accept that.

You say that working on this record has been a great opportunity for you. You say that it's the best thing that's ever happened to you since you moved to Roscoe. You try to hide your enthusiasm, yet I still melt at your sincerity. I swear, I can fall for you this instant. So thank you. Thank you for making me feel like this. Thank you for looking at me that way.

Thank you... I'm going to kiss you now.

I lean over, calm as ever, unaware of the consequences that may follow. The fact that you have a girlfriend begins to fade from my memory as you stand rigid in your place, shoulders slightly stiff, waiting for something to happen, praying that it would never happen, but immersed in anticipation nonetheless. Why so awkward, Travis? I feel that you know something that I don't. Like you feel guilty just standing there, frozen in time, expecting the worst as I lean forward, ever-so-casually, moving closer for one simple kiss.

Feel that? That's your cheek. That's my lips. That's my lips upon your cheek. It's innocent, I swear. Soft, subtle, and brief… like a gentle touch you can barely notice. Yet as soon as we make contact, something changes… something explodes.

The attraction is intoxicating. The separation is unbearable. The kiss isn't enough and I crave for more. You crave for more. I can tell by the little breathing space that we have between us. You hold my gaze, letting the moment settle in, keeping me attached to you by the pull of your longing... your desire. And I am drawn to the closeness, slowly moving forward for yet another kiss.

Feel that? That's your mouth. That's my lips. That's your mouth upon my lips. No longer innocent, I know, but still soft, subtle, and brief.

I was never aware of this want... this need. I didn't think it was ever there in the first place. Perhaps that's why the impact is so strong. Like electricity, it flicks on, crackling with life, explosively branching out everywhere, knocking me over, pulling me under, dragging me to places I've never been before. The contact stings, maybe harder than it intended to, causing me to step back in its magnitude… causing me to pull away.

And as soon as I open my eyes you're gone. Confusion written all over your face.

And that's not guilt I'm feeling… that's not uncertainty. It's disappointment. Disappointment and humiliation. I feel like I've just been dumped. I feel like I'm not wanted. Why do you stop? Why do you hesitate? Didn't you want this to happen?

I know you'd say "no" when you really mean "yes." And don't ask me about Audrey because I don't know who she is. Audrey, you mean? Tall girl with the dark hair? The one who likes to draw? The one who's your girlfriend?

Nope, doesn't ring a bell.

I choose to forget about her, and maybe you should too. It's important that you do, or else the confusion will always be there. Always preventing you from doing what you want to do. Why be confused when it's so easy to rationalize the situation? Stop living in the dark.

And yet you choose to be the gentleman. You choose to be the noble person. Muttering, no-I-can't-do-this-Lily, when inside you're dying for more. My eyes tear up and my hands curl into fists. I bite my lip in defeat. I turn around in frustration. I head for the door -

I'll leave you here alone unless...

Unless you give me a reason to stay. Or give me a reason to pull away. Whichever one, just tell me what to do. Hurt me, make me happy, just make a clean break. Don't just stand there. Make up your mind.

I shoot you a challenging glare, urging you to say something. I may not always be aggressive, but I'm always ready for a verbal spat. I will knock down every word that comes out of your mouth, so come on, lie to me. Tell me you don't want to be here right now. Tell me you don't want this.

You charge at me, slamming a hand against the door, blocking the exit that I never intended to take. You stare at me with your piercing eyes as your pulse begins to quicken, the fierce gritting of your teeth further intensifying the sharp features of your jawline. And then I sense it: you want me to be scared of you. You want me to leave you alone. Your insides are being torn apart and you want to punch something, you want to punch anything, but I know you wouldn't dare.

Ragged breath produced little puffs of air from your mouth. You start to pace back and forth, trying to calculate the pros and cons in your head when it's clear that your heart is already waving the white flag. Movement seems to be your only solace, placing one foot in front of the other, stalling for time as you bury your hands in your pockets. Words fail to describe what you're feeling, but you know you have to say something.

"The thing is, I have a girlfriend."

And I swear I didn't even hear you say that. They were just passing words, a filler for silence, your last chance to keep your world from crumbling down. I wish you'd stop trying to save yourself because the only way out is to let yourself fall. Put away the safety net and let yourself fall.

You reach out to me, placing a cold hand behind my neck, your mouth lingering near mine... its wetness glistening in the sunlight as your tongue slowly glided against the surface of your bottom lip. You draw me closer to you, hesitant at first, but gradually giving in to the eagerness of the moment. Your breath is warm against my cheeks. I close my eyes in anticipation, my chest aching for your touch... your caress. And finally, after an eternity's worth of waiting, of lingering lips and mingling breaths, you capture my mouth into yours.

You taste of green tea and bittersweet satisfaction. Heaven and hell collide inside me, making me want to scream, making me grab the collar of your shirt. Your hand tangles in my hair, feet scrambling off the floor, bodies falling on a lumpy old couch. Kisses coming one after another, hard and frantic, holding on for dear life as we both come up for oxygen. Gasping for air, I tug your hair back towards me, whispering no, no... don't stray too far as you eagerly comply, shifting your weight to the left to give me more moving space.

Your tongue graze the roof of my mouth and I draw in a breath, our legs intertwining as they randomly glide up and down, rubbing against each other, desperate and unsatiated. Oh god, I'm so lost... lost in touch, lost in you... lost in eternity where I will never ever be found. I'll just stay here, enclosed in your arms, pressed against your chest, nervously undoing the button of your shirt. I don't even know... I don't even know why I'm doing it... what do we do with an unbuttoned shirt? What do we do?

Damn, I don't have to do this. I don't have to think. I quickly get up, dragging you along with me, placing my thighs on either side of your hip as I trail kisses along the curve of your neck. A low humming sound from the base of your throat vibrates against my cheek, a low moan, a low hiss, biting your bottom lip just to keep from screaming.

"Lily..."

It's funny how my name sounds more interesting when you whisper it in my ear. Your hands begin to travel up my waist, tugging on the hem of my shirt, sliding the material up my back as I shiver at the cold air that grazed my bare stomach. You stop short of pulling it over my head, keeping it bunched together halfway up my torso. You don't even know what you're doing... don't even know why you're doing it. But what do we do with a discarded shirt? What do we do?

You slowly lower me back onto the couch, delirious comfort traveling up my spine as your tongue subtly glides along the hollow of my throat. Your palm spread flat on my stomach, fingertips dancing on the surface, leaning over to place soft kisses above my navel. Again and again, kissing the exposed skin, pushing me over to the edge and letting me fall into the bottomless pit of tangled hair, intertwined fingers, and swollen lips sucking in a deep breath, muttering oh god, oh god, oh god don't let it stop...

Now, give me a reason to pull away. Tell me why I shouldn't kiss you again.

Tell me why I should leave.

Tell me...

You don't even remember how you got here, do you? Your brain's all numb, I know, because mine is too. The past long forgotten, only rapid breaths are left, staring into each other's eyes like our existence is all there is. Your confusion has been washed away, replaced with a look of calmness, a look of resolve, your hand still stroking the strands of hair that had fallen over my face.

"The thing is, I wish you were my girlfriend."

The tone was neutral, washing over my shoulders like cold water. Coming through like a refreshing breeze, peaceful yet strong enough to send my teeth chattering. What did you mean by that, I wonder, the statement alone sounded positive but the way you uttered the words seemed like a gesture of defeat. Eyes downcast, you slowly get up from the couch and kiss me on the forehead. I feel like crying all of a sudden, a flood of tears forcing itself out the corner of my eye. But as you turn the doorknob you give me one last glance, and the small twinkle in your eyes slowly melts into a warm smile that seems to be promising.

I watch the clock spit out hour after minute, my extreme giddiness stretching from the station to my bedroom, leading to one hell of a sleepless night. Excess giggles withheld from previous events urge me to run to the closet, tossing clothes aside as I plan tomorrow's outfit. For the first time since I met you, I want you to look at me and go, "damn... she's beautiful." I want you to notice the difference, how our time together had changed the smallest of details - the extra bounce in my heels, the ear-to-ear grin, the blushing cheeks, the desire to lick my lips everytime I think of you...

I settle for a dark ensemble, black pants and a dark blue jacket, arranging the collar just in case you left any tiny red marks on my neck. Wringing my cold, nervous hands, I look for you amongst the crowd of students, and when I finally catch a glimpse of your profile I realize that you are standing by yourself, trying so desperately to open your locker. Why, Travis? Don't you remember your own combination? Well I do.

Twenty-four. Eleven. Thirty-three. I clumsily turn the dial as memories of your lips and your hands come rushing back to me. An empty station, a battered old couch, you and me on the first stages of undress... not knowing what to do, but going with the flow nonetheless.

I don't even know what to say. Can't look you in the eye. Perhaps it is your uneasiness, or the less-than-happy expression on your face... but from the moment I approached you, I knew that something was off. I knew that something was wrong. You don't even want to talk about it, do you? I can tell that you'd rather avoid the subject. So come on... deny it. Deny what happened yesterday.

"Maybe it was just a lucid dream we both shared."

And maybe it was; eyes shut tight, feeling my way around, grabbing hold of something that doesn't exist... like my hands tugging at your hair or your blue shirt discarded on the floor... all happening in my head while I slept. If it was a dream, then we shouldn't be having this conversation. If it was a dream, then we have nothing to feel guilty about…

Then Audrey shows up.

She walks in, lazily draping her arms across your shoulder, so naive, so trusting, unaware of the obvious tension that had sparked between us. I want so badly to wipe the smile off her face, to tell her what really happened yesterday, so that I wouldn't have to listen to that sugary-sweet voice of hers, that nice and clueless voice that's keeping you chained to her, that voice that's making you choose her over me.

I don't have to take this. Don't have to watch your perfect-little-boyfriend act. It's so sickening the way you look at her, the way you talk to her, the way you assure her that she's better than me...

And that kiss, that pathetic-attempt-at-an-apology kiss, that itsy-bitsy kiss, that grandma kiss, deliberately shielding her from the truth at my expense. Easily accepting that high-glossed, bubble gum scented brand upon your lips for a relationship based on falsity. Purposely hurting me, causing the painful pounding in my heart, looking on as I fall apart.

So now tell me why I should give you another chance. Tell me why I should stay.

Give me one reason before I drift away.

THE END

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A/N: Big ups to **Caalan** for beta-reading this grammatical nightmare. All references to licking courtesy of **Kala**, my muse, who just recently came out of the closet as a Trily shipper. And finally, one big teddy bear hug to the A/C crew and TxL posse at LiveJournal - **Dani, Angie, Jenn, Rini, Michelle, and Ava** - you guys rock my world.

Recommended background song: _Destiny_ by Zero 7


End file.
